Back to the Future
by Purecinnamonbun
Summary: In a desperate attempt to get over Simon, Baz tries to travel to the past using a forbidden spell, to stop him and Simon from ever meeting. However, the spell goes awry, and he ends up in the future. Where he is apparently in a relationship with Snow. And to make matters worse, the Simon from his own time isn't far behind.
1. Chapter 1

**Baz:**

The dining hall was oddly quiet for a Saturday morning. The rest of the school had seemingly decided that now was the moment to develop a sudden and unprecedented interest in football, and had all disappeared to watch the ongoing match. The very thought made me bristle in envy. The Mage had revoked my, as he phrased it, 'Leisure Privileges', a few weeks ago, because of some minor infraction that I'd apparently committed.

What he really meant by that Fiona was rude to him at some point during his miserable existence, so he will now proceed to take all of it out on me.

Now I was condemned to sit, alone on a table (Dev and Niall had left too, the wankers), demurely sipping my coffee, and appearing to be deep in thought.

As well as ignoring the fact that Snow was staring daggers into the back of my neck, of course.

Being unable to see the appeal in watching people run about on a pitch for two hours, Snow had seated himself at the table just behind me, Bunce at his side as always, and hadn't broken his gaze from the back of my head for the last fifteen minutes.

I stirred my coffee and wondered idly how long it would take Snow to realise the lack of nefarious intent in my enjoying a warm cup of bracing coffee. The very idea seemed unlikely, considering the amount of times that Bunce had gently tried to coax him into leaving in the last five minutes.

A sudden vision of Snow stalking up to my table, kissing me on the lips, and telling me '_The truth is, Baz, I'm in love with you'_ arrived suddenly in my mind. I shut it down quickly, and stand up almost as abruptly, the legs of my chair screeching back across the stone floor. I turned, and leave the dining hall, grinding my thumbs into the palm of my hands. In the corner of my eye, I spotted Snow rising from his seat as well, and starting forwards as if to follow me.

I couldn't deal with a repeat of fifth year. I was too damn far gone on Snow to withhold from kissing him this time. Or biting him. (I wouldn't bite him. I would never be able to hurt him)

The very thought lead me to make sharp turns down corridors, suddenly descend seemingly random flights of stairs, and eventually dart into the deserted library.

A deafening clatter from behind me proved that my avoidance strategy had worked, and Snow had very probably crashed into one of the antique suits of armour on display in the various corridors of Watford (dented the whole thing to hell and back, most likely). From the crack in the door, I watched him dither for a moment, before turning around, and going back the way he came. A breath escaped me, and I slumped down against the nearest bookcase, dropping my head in my hands.

Why couldn't I just be left alone to stew in my unrequited feelings? Why did Snow have to fight me at every turn? Why did I _always _have to play the villain?

"I've given up on you ever loving me back, Snow." I muttered into the palms of my hands, my voice coming out cracked and muffled "But I don't think I'll ever be able to give up on you entirely. No matter how much I want to."

When tears threatened the corner of my eyes, I stumble upwards, and walk in blind circles around the library to calm me down. Nobody visited here much nowadays. There was barely any relevant information to magic to be seen, after all. Once The Mage had become headmaster, he'd decided that oversaturating us with magickal resources wouldn't be effective, and had instead opted to adorn the shelves with the likes of _What Katy Did _and _War and Peace_. Unsurprisingly, the majority of magickal books removed from the library contained spells used for attacks, and sieges. Wouldn't want his students knowing how to overthrow him, after all. Now the books even vaguely related to magic were below even a first year reading level.

It truly was tragic.

Running my finger down a collection of books that all, vividly, described how to turn the yolk of an egg the perfect shade of orange, I paused at the volume I reached at the end. Tucked away, in the most secluded corner of the library, half-hidden under a surplus of copies of _Jane Eyre _was a tome I vaguely recognised.

It had been in my house as a child, before The Mage appeared and confiscated it, declaring it '_Too dangerous'. _

It was both forbidden, and powerful. I should have walked away, and gone down to the Catacombs, drained a few rats, and forgot about it.

Being the son of a Pitch, I instead reached out for it, and pulled it from the shelf, turning it over gently in my hands. I'd wanted to fall out of love with Snow for as long as I could remember. But there was no legal spell that would allow me to do it- at least permanently.

What if this book was the key to finally being able to hate Snow as much as he hated me?

A quick flick through the pages confirmed it. A time travel spell. I could go back to before my life went spectacularly to shit, and fix myself. Be free of the feelings that plagued me every time I looked at Snow's face, and was reminded of the sun.

I could finally be the person that my father expected.

I scanned the spell, skipping the description. I got the gist from the title.

Snapping the book shut, I pull off my sweater, wrapping it a few times around it, and cradling it to my chest.

Then I hurried back to Mummer's House, pushing Snow out of my thoughts until I could remove him entirely.

….

**Simon:**

I searched for Baz for maybe ten more minutes after he pulled his disappearing act, before eventually returning to Penny, and dropping myself down beside her.

"You know," She said, without even looking up from her book "I think it's about time you leave Baz alone."

"Leave him _alone? _Penny, he's plotting. Just letting him do it would be detrimental to the whole _school."_

"Mmm," She slowly closed her book "I don't think he is. Recently he just seems more interested in keeping his head down, and getting through school. Just give the guy a break?"

"I…guess…" I slowly enunciate, the words feeling foreign in my mouth "I just…I don't know Penny. Lately it just feels like I can't leave him alone. Why?"

Gracefully, she rose from the table, and tucked the book neatly between her chest and arms "I think you'll need to work that one out for yourself, Simon"

Then she glided out of the hall, leaving me to my own devices.

"Figure it out for myself?" I mumbled "How am I supposed to do that?"

I passed a few minutes tracing patterns on the tablecloth, before leaving the room myself. I should probably apologise to Baz. After all, he hasn't done anything _evil _lately. He's been uncharacteristically subdued. I think that's what sparked my concern. He didn't complain when I left the window open, when I yanked open the curtains early in the morning. All of my snide remarks just seemed to deflect off him.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was worried about the idiot.

Reaching the top of the stairs at Mummer's house, I reached forwards and tugged open the door. By the noises from inside, I assumed Baz was already back.

"Baz," I forced out, stepping into the room "I-"

I froze.

A dusty spell book, that bore no resemblance to the Mage approved books most commonly found, lay open on his bed. His arm was in the air, wand clenched in his fist. I could feel the magic about to pour out.

He looked at me, and gave what I almost imagined to be a tiny smile. Then he raised his wand once more, and clearly said "_**Back to the future!**_"

By the time I cried out, reaching desperately for him, he was gone.

….

**Baz:**

I woke up unusually warm. After a few minutes of gathering my bearings, I opened my eyes, and deduced that I was on a bed.

A very warm, and comfortable one at that, but not one that I could remember from the past. I scratched my head. Had I gone wrong somewhere?

As soon as I tried to sit up, I became aware of three very important facts.

One: There were arms wrapped around my torso, and an ankle hooked over my leg. That would be an adequate explanation for why I was so warm earlier.

Two: There was a man in the bed behind me. His hair stuck out from underneath the covers, and when he blinked his eyes open and sat up as well, he smiled at me affectionately.

Three: The man was Snow.

I observed him in faint horror, simultaneously very aware of the arms around my waist.

He leaned forwards, hair sticking up in all directions yet somehow still brilliantly handsome, and pecked me on the lips, eyes warm.

"Morning, love"

To say that I didn't react well would be an understatement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Simon:**

"_Baz!" _I shouted, my hands outstretching towards him without my permission. I was inches away from gripping his sleeve when he vanished in a flash of light.

I stand frozen for a moment, staring at the space that had been occupied a few minutes ago by my arch-rival, arm still out in a pathetic attempt to grip something tangible. Slowly, I take a step back. Why did I feel so upset that he'd gone?

_Plotting, _my mind supplied, _He's off plotting your downfall._

But those words just didn't seem to ring true anymore.

Gingerly, I leaned down, and picked up his wand from where it had fallen to the ground in the last moment before he'd disappeared. Surely if Baz was off doing something dastardly or nefarious, he'd need this? I swallowed, and turned it over in my hands once,, before tucking it in my pocket and turning to the next clue to Baz's location.

An spell book lay open on his bed. It was coated in a disrupted layer of dust, and the paper was tarnished, and on the brink of falling apart. I take a seat on Baz's bed, half-expecting him to appear from some corner and start screeching at me for encroaching on his side of the room.

Nothing.

The smell of cedar and bergamot still lingered on the sheets, and as much as I hated to admit it, I found it comforting.

Pulling the book onto my legs (I don't understand how Baz managed to lug this thing up the stairs to our room, it weighed half a ton), I examined the page that Baz had been looking at.

_Time travel spells_

"_**Back to the future"**_

_Be sure to say every syllable clearly, and place emphasis upon the last word._

Back to the Future _is a spell that will allow the user to go forward in time by three years. Once there, the user will be able to spend a week as their future selves in that time period before returning to their own._

_Alternatively, the spell can be broken early by:_

_A paste ground from frog slime, unicorn dust, and oak leaves_

_True love's first kiss_

_Riding a pig up Mount Everest, while shouting "__**Yee haw!"**_

_Always be cautious of how you affect the future while underneath the spell._

I read the whole thing twice, and then select parts once more for good measure, before snapping it shut, and heaving it off my legs.

What in Merlin's name would Baz want to be doing in the future?

_Killing you? _One voice in my head suggested.

_Getting a sneak peek of his future life with Agatha as a wife, and ten children? _Another proffered.

Both options made me equally ticked off for some reason.

I bit the back of my thumb, and entertained the idea of going after him for a moment.

Then I heaved the book into my arms, and went running down the stairs to talk to Penny.

….()….

"I honestly don't know what to tell you, Simon." Penny said, looking over the spell "It's a banned spell, so he probably did it for a kick"

"Baz doesn't do things for _kicks!" _I whined, my head down on the table "He does things because he's _plotting _and _evil! _Do you think he's gone to the future to kill me while my guard's down?"

"I distinctly remember having this conversation with you yesterday, Simon" She says primly, rolling her eyes a little "You even seemed to take a few of my points on board. This seems like a major step back."

"That was before!" I muttered "I just… want to know that he's okay"

Wait. That came out as both softer and gayer than I meant it to. But when I looked up, Penny doesn't even seem surprised by my comment. She took it in stride.

"I think that you want me to convince you to go after him. Right?"

"Well…" I considered it for a moment "Yes."

"Then just _go!"_

I sat up, red indents on my cheek from where I'd been squashing my face into the tablecloth "You think it's a good idea?"  
"No." Penny picked up the book, and flicked throught it a little, not even bothering to look up at me "Frankly, I think it's a terrible one. But no matter what I say, you're going to convince yourself that it's _for the greater good _or something silly like that and do it anyway. Am I right?"

Disregarding my mumbled answer, Penny departed with no more than a gesture towards the book, and a quick "I'm keeping this."

I don't sit around this time. I ran out of the dining hall, out of the grounds, and into the Wavering Woods. I securely enclosed Baz's wand in one pocket, a few sour cherry scones I nicked from the kitchen earlier in the other, and pointed my wand up at the sky.

Like Baz did.

"_**Back to the future!"**_

…..()….

**Baz:**

For a moment, I'm unable to do anything more than stare at Snow (no, not Snow, some sort of strange, messed up version. He'd have to be messed up to kiss me), make indecipherable noises, and slowly raise my hand to my lips.

If anything, that just seemed to spur Not-Snow on even more, and he gently kissed my nose, cheeks, and forehead, before snuggling back down into the blankets.

"Crowley, it's finally the weekend" He sighed, stretching out in bed "Thought we'd never make it. What with your asshole professor, and the sudden Attack of the Essays on my end. Right, Baz?"

I say nothing. I needed a distraction. Anything to pull my mind from the fact that _he wasn't wearing a shirt._

At last, he seemed to notice that something wasn't quite right (He retained the observation skills of Snow then), and pulled me down, taking my face in his hands. He frowned, blond hair falling in his face, covering his left eye. He needed a haircut, I noted

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice brought me back to the situation I was in. Not-Snow leaned even closer to me, and gently pressed his forehead against mine "You don't seem to have a temperature." 

"I'm fine." I finally managed to choke out, traitorous pulse quickening at the touch.

"You sure? You seem a lot… tamer than usual. Normally you would have made one of your half-hearted jabs at me by now."

_Half-hearted jabs?_

And that's when I noticed the wings and tail.

I had no idea as to how they'd escaped my scrutiny for that long. But there they were, clear as day. Wings, and an honest to Merlin cartoon devil's tail protruding from underneath the blanket.

Even more unnerved, I scooted back a tiny bit.

Not-Snow made a noise of complaint, and yanked me closer to him.

I wriggled out of his grasp.

That's it. I was in my own personal hell. A torment of showing me what I _could _have had.

When Not-Snow reached out for me again, I snapped. Pure panic overtook me, and I found myself spitting "I don't know what you're trying to pull, _Snow, _but it's not working. Run back to your sidekick and your golden girlfriend before they ditch you too."

His jaw dropped, but I was already out of bed, undertaking the profound realisation that _I was also not wearing a shirt._

Making for the bathroom, I heard Not-Snow scrabbling out of bed behind me, his voice emotion riddled "Baz, I-"

The door slammed shut in his face, and I stared at the space where it had been for a second before shaking my head violently.

He stayed outside for a few minutes more, making vague pleas, and sounding an awful lot like he was crying. Which just proved that the spell messed up somewhere, and I was in some sort of parallel world. Snow wouldn't cry because of me. I make him angry, not sad.

If I said that sort of thing to the real Snow, he'd probably stand there gormlessly for a minute or so before going off like an H bomb.

Sitting on the closed toilet seat, I smacked myself in the face. Once. Twice. I hated my magic for making me end up _wherever _the heck I was. And I hated myself for _liking _the idea of waking up with Snow every day. Kissing him in the morning every day. Living with him in a way that didn't mean both of us were either in silence, or sniping at one another

All I wanted to do was fix the mistake of falling in love with him. Now I'd somehow ended up in a situation quickly spiralling out of control, where the prospect of Simon loving me was dangled in front of my nose with the disclaimer of none of it being real.

I kicked the towel rail a few times, before tentatively unlocking the door, and poking my head out.

Not-Snow had disappeared off somewhere, although I could still hear his voice nearby. Speaking so quickly his words fused, and I couldn't understand them without being right next to him.

I took the chance to look around the room. The layout of the room, and obvious design choices seemed to suit my tastes- to the point where it really seemed that I'd designed it myself. Touches of Snow lay everywhere, however- like where there was a random poster of a cartoon cat on the wall for no apparent reason.

Perusing the pictures on the wall more closely, my heart clenched. There was one of me and Snow at the Leaver's Ball, another of us wearing goofy winter sweaters, and holding hands in front of a Christmas tree. And finally there was a particularly artistic close-up of my face and Simon's, inches away from each other, as if we're about to kiss. Fairy lights are strung in the background.

Feeling sick, I averted my gaze, and walked towards Not-Snow's voice. I had to work out what was going on here, and find a way to leave.

Too long, and I'd never want to.

"-and I just don't know, Pen" Simon's voice filters through the oak door. He was definitely crying now. My fists clenched by my sides, and I found myself supressing tears as well "It's like he doesn't remember anything. Like he has amnesia. He doesn't kiss back, he won't talk to me, and I'm just so _scared. _I don't know what I'd do if we broke up."

This was quite possibly the worst moment of my life. I bit my lip so tightly I drew blood, and my fangs popped.

Snow listened to the voice on the other end of the line for a moment, scrubbing at his face "Yeah… okay. I just-_AGH_"

He broke off mid-sentence, and clutched his head, stumbling backwards, a guttural scream coming from his throat.

The phone slipped from his grip, and bounced onto the tiled floor.

Everything slowed down for a moment, before speeding right back up again, double-speed.

I threw open the door and ran towards him. Whatever was going on aside, Not-Snow was the spitting image of Real-Snow.

My feelings for him didn't allow me to just overlook him being hurt.

Before I could get to him however, he crashed backwards into the wall, and slumped unconscious, tears still dripping down his face.

My breath quickened as I finally crouched next to him, wrapping him tightly in my arms. This really was my own personal hell.

"Wake up, Simon" I hissed, shaking him desperately "_Please."_

A violent shudder passed through his body, and his eyes snapped open.

"BASILTON GRIMM-PITCH!" He screamed suddenly, jerking upright, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. He barely noticed when I quickly let him go "I FOUND YO-"

He stopped, and dabbed curiously at his eyes "Why am I crying?"

Then he spotted his wings and tail.

A piercing scream shook the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Simon:**

The wings and tail, I had to admit, were a bit of a shock.

I mean, imagine hopping to the future and finding out that you suddenly have a unicorn horn and feet for hands. A shock!

Screaming may have been a bit overboard, especially since I'd planned my dramatic entrance to be a little more…well…_dramatic._

But I'd popped into my future body with tears running down my face, wings sprouting out of my back, and a dumbfounded Baz staring at me.

We couldn't be more than a couple of years down the line. Baz still looked like the pompous wanker he always was. If I squinted, I could tell he styled his hair differently, and wore more casual clothing.

My next thought revolved solely around the fact that Baz was wearing jeans.

"Snow?" He asked, tone questioning, and a little frightened.

"In the flesh." I attempted to sit up, but my head felt like it'd been smacked against a wall. I leaned back heavily, wrinkling my nose at the wings that made it more uncomfortable than it should've been "Or slightly altered flesh. Any idea how I managed to get wings and a tail?"

"I…" Baz began, and then stopped himself. Then out of nowhere, he pushed into my personal space, crouched, and stared me in the eye "Are you the _real _Simon, or this place's version?"

"I…" Momentarily sidetracked, I stared into Baz's eyes for a moment. They were very grey. Very sparkly. "You're asking if I'm future me?"

"Future you?" Baz froze once more. I reached out, and poked him hard in the chest, leading him to topple over, onto his butt.

"Yes." I said slowly, as if speaking to a child "Because you used a spell that took you to the _future. _You feeling okay, Baz?"

"I…future spell…what?" Baz looked flustered. It was not like Baz to be flustered. I was now slightly concerned.

"Yep. _Back to the future. _I guess we know each other in the future, huh? I mean, it seems like I was already hanging out at your place"

"_My _place" Baz's eyes briefly scanned the apartment before returning to me, the defiant edge they always had slowly returning. I felt an odd sense of relief "This won't be my apartment, I can assure you. I'm too tasteful to put up that particularly horrifying picture of a turkey merged with a cow. And I can _also _reassure you that we won't be friends in the future. The moment we leave Watford, I'm done with you until I can skewer you alive in the war."

"Right." Why did he have to be such a _twat? _"So, why did you want to come to the future anyway? _Plotting?"_

"It doesn't matter" Baz said brusquely, standing up "Do you know a way to get back, or not? I don't want to be here longer than I need to be.

Silently, I went over the counter-measures I'd seen in the book. I didn't know where we'd find unicorn dust, and I'd rather die than ingest frog slime. I was probably as broke in the future as I was in the present, so I'd never be able to afford a way to mount Everest.

And I couldn't see myself coincidentally coming across my true love in the short time the spell would last.

"No," I replied "Guess we'll just have to wait a week until the spell wears off."

I tried not to be offended by Baz's horrified expression.

….

**Baz:**

As I've long suspected, the world hates me.

Merlin and Morgana, I was undergoing an information overload. Luckily for me, my brain runs at a rate faster than most people, so I was able to process the situation fairly quickly as Snow droned on about whatnot.

One: The time travel spell was in fact, not a spell to take me to the past. I was in the future. This is why it's hammered into a Pitch from an early age to always read the terms and conditions.

Two: Snow had followed me to the future, for reasons currently unknown. Further inquiry would have to ensue

Three: We were stuck here together for at least a week.

Four: In the future, it appeared that all of my fifth year fantasies had come true, and I was dating (or at least in some sort of romantic relationship) with Simon Snow.

I hated how much my heart lifted at the idea.

Five: The Snow from my time could never find out.

First things first, remove all evidence of said relationship.

"I'm going to take a look around" I told Snow, and ignored his objections about it being _his _future house.

It appeared that it was mine as well.

The living room, which Snow and I currently occupied only had one picture, a picture snapped of us at the Leavers Ball.

Snatching it, I thanked my lucky stars for Simon's density, and apparent lack of need to look around him.

The kitchen had more pictures, pinned up on the fridge by magnets, which went flying as I removed them one by one.

After a careful moment of staring, I opened one of the fridge draws, and winced.

Packets, and packets of animal blood.

I buried them deep in the trash, and watched, unflinching, as the cold liquid slowly left the cheap, plastic cup through the cracks that I'd created in my haste, dying the paper that lay beside it a deep crimson.

My fangs popped.

I turned away.

After that, it was a blur.

Years of supposed memories, gone in an instant, proof of time together gone easily as smoke in the wind.

The bedroom was last, and unfortunately, chock-full of evidence of the not-future relationship.

Pictures of us together lined the walls- our faces drowned out the occasional appearance of Bunce and her American boyfriend.

Snow's golden girl was nowhere to be seen.

The room was cosy and warm, and there was a quilt blanket that I was _sure _Snow had coerced me into buying, and there was an unopened letter from Aunt Fiona on the windowsill, and a copy of _Crime and Punishment _lay open on the bed, and-

I hated _all of it_. It made me feel like the bedroom was _ours. _Like the photos and drawings were somehow _intimate._

With everything I tore down, I could hear my heart breaking over and over.

Because I knew that it could never be real. I don't know what I'd managed to do that had ended up with me and Snow together in the first place, but I was sure that I wouldn't be able to make it happen a second time.

I made a note of yet another thing I hated: How desperately I _wanted _this to be my future.

Unable to bring myself to shove everything into the bin, I stuffed the collection of frames and papers and belongings under the bed.

Snow could never bring himself to clean the room back at Watford, which he inhabits most of the year. He certainly wouldn't start trying to clean a room that he'd been in for less than a week.

Once the walls were clear, and there were no more indications of my presence in the loft (I'd even got rid of one of the toothbrushes in a cup by the sink, and my hair gel had been safely stowed underneath the cabinet), I seated myself on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling.

I resented my future self for having everything I'd ever wanted. For me never being able to have that.

I didn't cry, because I was stronger than that. I was the son of a Grimm and a Pitch after all. I wouldn't let pesky emotions get in my way.

Except when they got in the way of me planning to kill Simon Snow one day, but that wasn't the point.

What was the point again?

My eyes picked up one lone photograph of me, Snow and Bunce. It looked like we were at a party, and someone had suddenly taken us by surprise with the photograph.

Bunce was grinning, I was looking down at Snow, smiling and clearly besotted.

He was looking back at me in exactly the same way.

Unthinkingly, I tucked the photo in my pocket.

If I was going to be pathetic, I might as well go the whole hog.

Stretching, I strode back to the living room, where Snow laid fully across the couch, flicking through the channels lackadaisically, a bored expression on his face. When he heard me come in, he sat up, an expectant expression on his face.

"You said that we're here for a week?"

"Yes."

"Okay. We'll just have to wait it out then. Since this is _clearly _your apartment, judging by the abysmal décor" I sneered for effect "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch"

"Why don't we share the bed? It'll be more comfortable."

The time travel had apparently addled Snow's brain beyond comprehension.

"Snow, I don't fancy being an even closer subject to your snoring. Just try to keep away from me as much as possible."

And he did. We ate at different times. I went out at night to hunt (in hindsight, throwing away that blood may have been a bad idea). We kept ourselves busy in separate parts of the house (Although I suspected that Snow was playing video games instead of researching for our History of Magick paper like I was).

And just like that, two days passed.

…

**Simon:**

Two days had passed, and I was bored out of my mind. After my lapse of sanity when I offered that Baz and I share a bed, we stopped talking completely.

Not that I'd usually mind- a world without Baz is a calm world after all. But I found that I oddly missed the git.

Eventually, I started actually attempting to start a conversation, in ways that didn't always work so well.

Coming up behind Baz while he was holding a knife in the kitchen turned out to be a not so great idea.

The comment afterwards about trying to make him stab himself may also have been in poor taste.

But he wasn't _talking _to me!

So, after two excruciatingly boring days filled with Pokemon and Mario passed, I tried once more.

I prepared for the mission in the best ways I could. Distraction was key, if I wanted to make him focus long enough for me to get a sentence in without him walking away. If used correctly, I may even confuse him enough to make him stop plotting for the next few years

The yoga pants and crop top was _perfect_.

I also needed entrance music. '_Everything is Awesome' _from the Lego Movie seemed appropriate.

(Especially since it was the only music I had on CD for my music player, since I didn't know the passcode to my own phone.)

Mission launched.

"TYRANNUS BASILTON GRIMM-PITCH!" I announced in a voice several octaves shriller than usual once I reached the door of the living room, where he sat propped up with a book and a notepad which he was scribbling in.

At the sound of my voice, Baz glanced up, and his eyes widened comically.

I grinned "I'm bored"

"No kidding" His tone was flat, and his face seemed to be contorting to an expression between fear and constipation. His eyes inexplicably seemed firmly fixed on the skin of my stomach that was exposed by the crop top, before he ripped them away "Put on some clothes"

"I'm wearing cloth-"

But before I could even finish, he'd pushed past me, and escaped to the bedroom, a light flush dusting his cheeks.

Mission failed. We'll get 'em next time.

Seeing as the living room was now free, I threw myself down on the couch, and pulled out my phone.

When the ringtone started blaring, I lurched forwards in shock, and almost deposited both myself and my phone onto the floor.

However, when I caught sight of the caller I.D, I don't hesitate to pick it up "Penny!"

"Simon! I've been trying to reach you for the past few days! Why haven't you picked up your phone?"

"There was…" I belatedly realise that telling Penny about the time travel thing probably wouldn't be the best idea. Didn't want to mess with the future "A situation." I finished lamely.

"A _situation?" _ She slowly let out a breath. I could hear Micah asking her if she was okay in the background "Did you at least sort out the stuff with Baz?"

"Stuff with Baz?"

"Your fight? Honestly Simon, it's like you don't know you-" She suddenly broke off , and was silent for a moment before bursting into speech once more "You're Simon from the past, aren't you?"

"_Whaaaaaaat?_" Curse my voice for being so high " _Nooooooooo!"_

"Simon, don't play dumb with me. Now listen, I'd come and help you, but as you probably…_don't_…know, I live in America now. Make sure to tell me about this when you get back, by the way."

"I-"

"Oh, and Simon?" She cut me off once more "Check the locket"

A beep indicating that she had hung up resounded over the phone, and I looked at it resentfully for a moment before placing it next to me. If she'd figured out that it wasn't future me, then she could at least give me a few more tips than that.

_Locket? _Where would…

At a steady pace, I brought my hand closer to my neck, and pulled on the chain around it. But instead of my cross, a silver pendant hung on the interlocked loops.

Baz _had _managed to get close to me on that first day without feeling anything. At this point, I was so used to having my cross around my neck, I hadn't even bothered checking.

Achingly slowly, I undo the clasp, and take the pendant in my hand, prising it open.

Upon seeing the contents, I gasped sharply, and stared at it for a couple more beats before closing it, and putting it back around my neck, as if all was right with the world.

Without another sound, I picked up my phone, feeling vaguely dazed

I entered Baz's birthday into the keypad.

It unlocked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Baz:**

After Snow's stunt with the crop top, I stayed locked in the bathroom for a good forty five minutes, contemplating the life choices that had brought me to this point.

_God, I hated him._

But I hated the most that the aforementioned statement had expired years ago.

The ceramic of the bathroom sink was cool against my overly warm hands, and I braced myself against it for a moment, critically taking in my appearance.

I hadn't changed much through however many years it was supposed to have been. It almost threw me off that I was still _myself. _The only thing that seemed real in this so called future. Grey eyes, hair swept out of my face, and a permanent scowl settling on my features.

But in this universe, I was so obviously _happy, _it almost sickened me. I could tell by my eyes, which were just a little brighter. The grin I sported in all of the trashed photos. The fact that Snow was _there _and _mine _was obviously enough to keep me cheerful for a lifetime.

Although I wouldn't be surprised if I still gave Snow hell sometimes.

Twisting the tap, I dipped my hands into the water, and quickly splashed my face, rubbing it dry with a towel afterwards.

And then, feeling slightly better, I left the bathroom to return to my laptop, and kick any distractions (Namely: Simon Snow) out.

Also, I hadn't heard a peep from anywhere in the flat for the whole time that I'd concealed myself, and against my better judgement, I was becoming concerned.

I was almost completely sure that it was impossible for Snow to be silent for a whole minute, let alone several. In my mind, he'd always started vibrating and letting out a high pitched noise once he hit the five minute mark.

However, once I re-entered the room that I'd left him in, it became immediately apparent as to why he'd been so quiet. He wasn't here at all. Seemed like he'd finally decided to get out of the flat (although I hoped that he'd decided to change before leaving- no matter how unlikely it is that Snow will ever be aware of my feelings, I found that I didn't like the idea of him wandering around London while so scantily clad).

Although the room was devoid of Snow, his impact was clear as day. For some reason, the git had decided to rip up half of the room. The couch cushions lay on opposite ends of the floor, the drawers of the TV cabinet had been rifled through, and the coffee table was neatly upturned. I'd be laughing if I wasn't so horrified at the mess that had been made.

Had I _really _been so deep in thought, I hadn't noticed _this?_

Patting my pockets, I withdrew my wand, and casted a quick '_**As you were'. **_My wand was another thing that had changed. I'd spent a long time looking for it after I ended up in the future, which was odd, since I'd always made a point to have it on me.

It turned out that it was in a vase. Full of water. With flowers in it. I _sincerely _hoped that that was Future Simon's idea of a prank, because the idea of me being that careless made me worried that I had some sort of brain problem in the future.

As the room righted itself, I peeked through the rest of the flat, finding much of the same. The bedroom was the worst. He'd actually managed to rip a pillowcase in half in his haste. The wardrobe door lay innocently on the carpet, clean off its hinges. The drawers had yet again been emptied, and clothing was scattered throughout the room, including a pair of boxers that were tossed over the lamp (If I'd had enough blood over the last few days, I would have blushed upon realising that they didn't belong to me)

Had Snow gone feral? Finally lost it after all the Mage has thrown at him?

Sighing, I leaned against the door, biting my lip. I couldn't recall saying anything earlier that was past my usual brand of rude (although it was a bit of a blur because of _Simon in a crop top)_

So what could have caused him to go on a rampage?

With the way that he'd stripped apart the couch…rifled through the drawers…it was almost like…

_No._

_No. no. _

My blood ran cold.

Had I missed something?

No. I was overthinking it. Maybe he just lost his game controller. Or something.

_Simon Snow, what are you looking for?_

…..()….

**Simon:**

The soft _click _of the bathroom door opening and closing snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. This wasn't possible. If this was what I was suspecting, it wasn't possible.

_Baz _hates _me._

_I hate Baz._

But as the latter statement entered my mind, I realised how much of a lie it was. Sure, the wanker could be a pain. He was always nicking my mint Aeros, for one thing.

But I don't think that I'd truly hated him for a while.

And I supposed it added up. My mind always straying to him. The compulsion to always know where he was. Paying more attention to him than _my actual _(now ex) _girlfriend._

Not to mention the overwhelming worry for him that had caused me to follow him on a very potentially dangerous trip to the future.

I was in love with him.

Fuck.

Was I gay? Did this make me gay?

'_Stop worrying about that' _the slightly more intelligent part of my brain told me '_Go and find more proof before you overthink it'_

So look for more proof I did.

I scoured the main room, then the kitchen, cringing when I sent a block of knives clanging to the floor. Hopefully Baz didn't hear it.

But there was nothing. Which was odd, since I _knew _that I'd be the type of person to put up photos, and clear out a section of the fridge, and give them a drawer to put their clothes in.

The bedroom was last, and I went through the motions of checking the bed, then the wardrobe, breaking a few things in my hurry.

There was a jumble of papers and things under the bed, but my wings got in the way when I tried to squeeze underneath to reach them, so I just left it.

I was just about to give up, when I finally found what I was looking for.

While scouring one of the drawers that Baz had deigned to use for the extent of his stay, and picking up the pair of jeans he'd been wearing on the first day (and perhaps imagining him wearing them), a folded piece of paper fell out.

Upon unfolding it, I let out a breath.

Baz and I. Together at a party. Hands clasped. About to kiss.

It really shouldn't have been a relief.

But somehow, knowing that it wasn't all in my head, and my newfound feelings for Baz weren't unnatural, was indescribably soothing.

With this, my phone password, and the photo in my locket, the proof was undeniable.

In the future, Tyrannus Basilton Pitch and I were in a relationship.

Pulling on a long coat to hide my wings and tail, I stepped outside the flat, walked down two flights of stairs, and sat down in the lobby, photo in hand.

_We're in love._

Something bubbled up in my chest, and I resisted the urge to laugh in pure ecstasy.

Just for one moment, I was happy.

I considered running back up to the flat, flinging open the door, and kissing Baz.

Wasn't _true love's first kiss _one of the ways to break the time travel spell? It'd be a sure-fire way to further reinforce our relationship.

Then I remembered.

_This photo was hidden in Baz's pocket. _

_He didn't want me to see it._

Back at the flat, there were blu-tac marks on the walls. Photos had been there.

I'd thought that one side of the bed had been far too tidy. Baz's things had been there.

The hair gel that I'd found hidden underneath the cabinet the other day, but dismissed. That had belonged to Baz.

Baz _knew. _He'd ensured that I _didn't_.

I'd been too caught up in my own pace again. Baz didn't want this relationship to happen.

So he made sure it didn't.


	5. Chapter 5

**Baz:**

The building was utterly devoid of any trace of Snow. Usually I'd just assume that the nightmare had run off into London for some sort of idiotic joyride, but since we were in the future, the idea of him pulling a disappearing act was a little more concerning. Snow had many skills, but the ability to mind his own business wasn't one of them.

As evidenced, quite obviously, by the current state of the flat.

In all honesty, I was ignoring the main issue; the _reason _that Snow ran off. He'd obviously been searching for _something. _No, whatever he'd been trying to find didn't matter. The real problem was whether he'd managed to happen upon any of the other things I'd been hiding from him. He shouldn't have. I was careful; I hid everything in places Snow either wouldn't fit, or wouldn't think to look.

Except…

_Shit._

A quick look in the bedroom yielded the results I'd dreaded. The photo that I'd so stupidly kept, with every pixel portraying Snow and I as the sickeningly sweet couple I'd always hoped we'd be, was long gone.

You always think of fear as being quick, sharpening your senses, and giving you incentive to run as far as possible. This wasn't that type of fear. It was slow, and twice as painful, beginning from a heavy feeling at the base of my stomach, until I was on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. My hands were shaking, but I barely spared them a thought. My mind was busy asking me thousands of questions, none of them having an answer I wanted to admit.

Why did I have to be so fucking sentimental? Why couldn't I just leave this impossible future untouched and ignored? Why was I always so _damned determined to play Icarus?_

Maybe there was another spell in that book, back at Watford. One that would _really _let me go back and change my pre-written story to one of my own volition. I could take away these ill-fated feelings for good.

The worst part was, I wasn't even sure if I'd let myself cast the spell. My love for Snow, the very thing killing me, had saved me more times than I could ever even realise.

But now he knows that. He knows how much I love him, and how much I _desperately _tried to hide it.

He knows that he's the sun, and I'll never stop crashing into him.

I leave the bedroom (I preferred to call it _the _bedroom. Not ours. Never ours.)

There were two things I could do now. One, wallow in misery and dread in the apartment until the time runs out, Snow and I are taken back to our timeline, and he stabs me the second we arrive back in our room.

Second, I could try to find Snow, whatever whimsical part of London he'd managed to find, and pray that he didn't try to stab me in public.

I go with the second option, mostly because it seems to have less of a chance of resulting in my death. Face the problem head on, or so the saying goes (I've never wanted to cower under the covers more in my life.)

Maybe one brave act would cancel out all of the hiding I've been doing these years.

I put on a jacket, and leave the apartment for the first time, locking the door behind me.

Time to talk to Snow.

…..()….

**Simon:**

I don't really know why I ended up where I did. Guess I unwittingly followed the crowds of tourists. That at least hasn't changed in the future.

I've always thought the London Eye was a bit naff, really. You pay multiple times the money for half the fun of a normal fairground ride (not that I've ever been on one before). Queue for hours to stand around in a glass pod with people you don't know, the view hazy and distorted because of the smog that never stops hanging in the air of the city.

So I don't spend my dangerously low stock of money on a glorified lift. Instead, I sit on a ledge nearby, and watch it go round, people piling off and on at the bottom.

I've always been a master at not thinking about things. If there's a thought I don't want, I can just put it on the list with the others, and toss it into the pile at the back of my mind.

It's never really been that way with Baz. Whenever I try to put him on the list, he comes charging back mere moments later, with all the subtlety of a chimera. I guess I've just gotten used to always having him hanging around in my head. After a certain point, it stopped bothering me; I suppose I can't say the same for Penny and Agatha though, since they have to deal with the repercussions of Baz being in my mind all the time

Now that I was actively trying to kick Baz out of my head again, I was realising how at home he'd made himself there.

Across from the ledge that I was sitting on, a kid drops his ice cream on the floor, cone and all, and starts to cry. A woman tries to usher him away, to no avail. He's determined to cry every last tear he has over that one lost sweet.

The crowd who were originally watching the outburst turn away and go back to their converstaions.

The wheel keeps turning. Traffic keeps screeching. People keep chattering. The world doesn't stop turning just because you lose something that you never fully appreciated in the first place.

_Baz._

Maybe I shouldn't have left so quickly after finding out the truth about our future. I wasn't really sure what to do now, after all. My wings were bunching uncomfortably against my coat, and I didn't know where to go for the night. There was still a few days left until the spell wore off, and we'd go back. Sitting in front of the London Eye the whole time probably wouldn't be a smart choice.

Sighing, I looked down at where the chain of the necklace was wrapped around my hands, and open the pendant again.  
Pressed against one of the sides was a small picture. Me, asleep on the couch of our future apartment, game controller falling out of one hand, head leaned against a cushion. My other arm was wrapped loosely around Baz's torso, his head nuzzled into my lap, as he slept too. The sheer warmth and comfort of the image made my heart clench.  
On the other side of the internal part of the pendant, was an inscription.

_Simon Snow, I choose you._

I could tell that I'd been extra careful with the necklace. The silver, perfectly circular, surface of the locket was smooth, without a single scratch or dent. It was special to me. I could feel the love and affection that the locket held.

I swallowed, biting my lip.

This was the future I wanted. Not one where I'd have to face Baz on a battlefield, the long-awaited showdown that could only end with one of us stealing the life of the other.

I…._loved _Baz far too much for that.

If only he felt the same way. But he didn't. So that was probably that.

The end.

"Simon!"

Fuck.

I couldn't help but look up at the voice, jerking my head around wildly in all directions until my eyes fell on the source.

Baz stood about ten meters away, doubled over, and breathing heavily, hair swept by the wind. Why had he been running?

"Simon!" He gasped, standing up straight again, and walking until he was directly in front of me "Found you."

"How did you−"

"Instinct. You aren't as complex as you think you are, Snow. When you don't have anywhere to go, you always end up going to the place that feels the most familiar."

My face was flushing, I could tell, but I ignored it. Standing up myself, I tried to push past Baz "I…want to be on my own right now."

"Please?" He caught my wrist "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

I don't know why it took me so long to work out how I felt about the bastard. I've always been weak to him. Even now, there was only one thing I could say.

"…Okay."

"Great," Baz glanced around, and cursed under his breath when he noticed that people were staring at us. Swiftly, he pulled us both out of sight, tugging his wand out of his pocket. _**"Nothing to see here!"**_

"What are you doing?"

"_**Up, up, and away!"**_


End file.
